


For Those Days

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: (of your Best Friend), EXTREMELY self-indulgent, FC Bayern München, Friendship, M/M, Meeting the Parents, OC Galore, Secret Relationship, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: The last thing Axel expects when he signs for Bayern is for his welcoming committee to be made up out of one skinny boy with a too-wide grin who looks like he’s barely even twenty.Or, it's the year 2037 and Bayern gets a new, promising goalkeeper who's in a secret relationship with one of Dortmund's star strikers. He becomes fast friends with a young midfielder who keeps a few secrets of his own.





	For Those Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm_nani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/gifts).



> When I, a few months ago, told my friend Nani about my OC Fabian and how I fond I've grown of her own OCs, we mused about what would happen if they existed in the same universe. I tried really hard to make that a reality – this is the result!
> 
> The whole thing is compliant to Nani's amazing story _[everything i feel returns to you somehow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117651)_ (which you should go check out if you haven't yet) as well as a so far unwritten story of mine.
> 
> HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY FRIEND!!! I hope you enjoy this not-so-little something and that I did your boys justice. I very much hope you enjoy this, and that maybe some other people will like it as well ♡
> 
> Unbeta'd, so please point out any mistakes that bother you!

The last thing Axel expects when he signs for Bayern is for his welcoming committee (after the official meeting with the bosses and all, of course) to be made up out of one skinny boy with a too-wide grin who looks like he’s barely even twenty.

“I’m Fabian,” he says, “though most people call me Fabi.”

He’s supposed to introduce him to the team, help him get settled in the city, they tell him. “He’s the most Bayern you’ll get,” they say with a laugh, and the boy’s grin spreads even wider.

Once they’re out of the door, Axel just barely manages to squeeze in a short introduction before Fabian starts talking.

He’s heard of him, of course; of Fabian Müller, this wunderkind prodigy who moved up from Bayern’s youth team at only seventeen, and now, after only two seasons of being signed with the first team, is already one of their youngest semi-regular starting players ever.

Still, it’s surprising, how respected he seems and how he so effortlessly takes Axel under his wing despite being six years younger.

While Axel quickly finds out that the younger is easy to take a linking to, it’s a bit of work getting used to him. He’s a bit too boisterous and loud but with a wit that’s dry and sarcastic, and it takes Axel a while to get comfortable having him around a lot, just like it takes a few weeks to accommodate to the club as a whole.

The nicknamed FC Hollywood is nearly as pretentious as their reputation, but also incredibly professional and supportive when it comes to their players and furthering their careers. After a surprisingly short time, coming to Säbener becomes a routine and Axel starts looking forward to having breakfast with the team in the mornings, even if they’re all, as Fikret says, pretty full of themselves.

Even quicker, he realizes that Fabian actually _is_ a big help. He knows the city like the back of his hand and is always there to help Axel find anything he might need, including a small but luxurious apartment not too far from the training grounds. He’s well liked and respected among the team, and most of the staff greet him like he’s an old friend.

It’s almost a bit puzzling, but when Axel asks him about it one morning, he just shrugs.

“I grew up here. I started in the youth team when I was six, and I’ve been in and out of here pretty much everyday ever since. Actually –” he stops himself, the sentence trailing off as he sends a glance out of the window before shaking his head and focusing back on his bowl of granola again with an enigmatic grin.

In retrospect, it’s probably Axel’s own fault for not starting to get suspicious already then, but he’s too distracted by fighting off a flash of homesickness when he realizes how much this kid’s cheekiness resembles Fikret’s.

And god, he misses him. He didn’t expect it to be this bad, not when they call each other as often as possible, their trail of messages seemingly endless. Didn’t expect it to be this bad when he’s so busy during the day, his mind occupied with trying to fit into his new environment, his new team. But suddenly, there are moments like these, when the longing grows into an actual sting in his heart, so painful that it makes him press his hand against it.

After a month or two, he would go as far to call Fabian one of his closest friends, though the rest of the team are pretty alright guys as well. Axel gets along exceptionally well with his fellow keepers – which is surprising, but welcome – as well as their coach, Toni, who also speaks of Fabian very fondly, making Axel wonder if everyone is friends with the kid.

That particular bit starts to make a bit more sense when Fabian saunters over to the goalkeepers when they’re warming up one day.

“Papa told me to say hi and that you should get your ass up and call him,” he tells Toni. “I think he’s getting bored, what with Dad being abroad at the moment, and there’s not too much going on at the foundation either,” he adds with a shrug and a cheeky smirk.

Family friend, then, Axel thinks before his mind rewinds, making him stop short, focusing on something else instead.

It throws him out of a loop, this so casual mention of Fabian’s apparently same-sex parents.

It’s 2037, so people are more open about these kind of things these days, but they’re footballers, where it’s still somewhat of a tabu – at the very least, having a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend could still very much ruin your chances of moving to a bigger club because of sponsoring deals and the whole shebang. (Axel was glad when they hadn’t asked him about his romantic relationships when Bayern had called – he wasn’t sure that his relationship with Fikret wouldn’t be a problem to them.)

Curiously, during all the times they’ve hung out, Fabian has never actually talked about his parents before; the only thing Axel manages to find out is that he still lives with them even if he has plans to move out soon.

It’s Fikret who tells him so, actually, having picked it up in an article or another.

“And you’re sure they’re both guys?” he asks, digging through his bag.

The BVB has just checked into the hotel, and Firket and Axel decided to make use of the short break as well as Axel’s free evening.

Axel smiles at seeing his boyfriend be his usual messy self. “Hmm,” he agrees, fixating on a single strand of Fikret’s dark hair that sticks out at the back of his head. He’s wearing the charcoal scarf he knitted him, Axel notices with a hint of satisfaction.

“It’s not that I don’t believe it,” Fikret says, still focused on finding whatever it is that he’s looking for – by now he has moved on to his small backpack – “It’s cool, honestly. As long as I don’t have to worry about this guy making the moves on you, I’m glad you know someone you could trust if the need arose.”

Axel huffs in fake exasperation, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “He’s way too young for me. Also, I prefer a bit of a darker type, have you forgotten?”

Fikret snorts, blowing him a kiss, fluttering his eyelashes.

Axel grins. He flinches a bit when Fikret yells out a short “aha!”, pulling his phone charger out of his bag, shaking his head at the his messiness. Fikret always keeps losing things – and even if maybe most people would find it annoying, Axel thinks it’s terribly endearing.

“I knew that was hiding somewhere. Alright,” he shoves his things off his bed, flopping down on it with a groan. “So how has your week been? Everything still fine with the knuckleheads?”

“You really should stop calling them that,” Axel says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, especially considering you’re one of them now,” Fikret teases.

Axel flips him off before shrugging.

“Everything’s alright, yeah. I think the gaffer likes me; Toni definitely does. And with this being Christian’s last season, I think I actually have good chances to become number one.”

Fikret shows him two thumbs up, even if Axel can tell by his smile that it’s still paining him to cheer on Bayern, even if his boyfriend is a part of it.

Their conversation turns into trivial chatter then, and they simply basking in each other’s attention, something they haven’t done nearly enough lately.

It’s only at the end of their call, when Fikret mentions that he’d like to visit him at some point, ‘have a look at his apartment’ – accompanied by a wiggle of his eyebrows – meet some of his teammates including his “new best friend”, that Axel thinks to ask him.

“Should I tell him?”

“Who?”

“Fabian. About us,” he clarifies.

Fikret considers this for a moment before shrugging uncertainty. “He’s your friend. If you trust him, I trust him too.”

It’s not really helpful advice, but the half-smile on tugging at his lips is so cute that Axel can’t help smiling back, and it’s everything it takes for them to get lost in each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, Fikret stops short, remembering to check the time. He groans quietly. “Alright, looks like I’m expected at dinner in five minutes. Keep your chin up babe, and promise you’ll watch me today!”

“Buzz off,” Axel grins, blushing a bit as he returns the kiss he blows him. “Good luck with the game. Love you.”

Fikret stops, already halfway out of the door. “Love you too, you big oaf.”

He beams so brightly that it makes Axel’s heart clench as the screen switches to black. He sighs, letting himself fall back onto the couch, pressing the phone against his chest with a stupendous smile on his lips.

He flinches when it suddenly, it starts ringing again.

“Hey, you still up?” Fabi asks as soon as he picks up.

Axel rubs his hand over his face. “Yeah, why?”

“So there’s this small pub I sometimes frequent – the owner’s a friend, and the people really don’t give a fuck about who you are. Do you wanna come watch Dortmund vs. Hertha with me and some of the lads?”

Axel yawns, unsure for a moment, but concludes that it’s better than just him, his TV, his knitting and cheering for Fikret all on his own. Which right now, mostly sounds vaguely depressing. “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Fabian actually sounds excited, “I’ll come pick you up in twenty minutes.”

‘A few of the lads’ turn out to be a lot of Fabi’s friends from the academy – a very loud, excitable lot – as well as the younger half of their midfield and surprisingly also Christian, the team’s senior goalkeeper.

When Axel sits down next to him, raising an eyebrow, Christian only shrugs, taking a sip of the beer in front of him, trying to look sophisticated. “I’m designated babysitter. Also, Fabi’s father would likely kill me if anything happened to his offspring, no matter how many times I tell him that he’s an adult and can take care of himself.”

By now, Axel has resigned himself that anyone who has been at Bayern longer than a few years seems to know at least one of Fabian’s dads, making him wonder if either of them ever worked there. But for the time being, he pushes those thoughts to the side.

The game turns out to be quite enjoyable for him, and Axel just barely manages to disguise his excitement for the first and the second goal – scored by Fikret, making an impossible pride swell in his chest – as general support for his former team.

As the two oldest players present, even if they are also separated by more than a decade, him and Christian stick together for the night. When the blatantly refuse to join the others' chants, Fabian only tuts at them.

“Goalkeepers, I swear to god,” he says, causing Christian to chuckle.

“You of all people shouldn’t talk bad about us.”

Fabi grins. “But that’s just why, I know exactly how strange the lot of you are. God knows why I thought becoming friends with you two was a good idea! Experience should have really taught me better.”

Christian laughs, raising his glass to him before downing it.

They’re the last three to leave, and Christian bids the two of them goodbye outside of the pub, his breath frozen in front of him.

The walk back to Fabian’s car is unusually quiet. Fabi has his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his hood up, a handful of messy, dark-blond curls peeking out from underneath. Axel finds that his fingers and toes are freezing, and once more he wonders why winters in Bayern are this disgustingly cold.

It’s mostly to distract himself from that when he finally breaks the silence.

“So, your parents …”

Fabian lets out a short laugh that dissolves into a chuckle.

“Ahh. I knew it was only a matter of time until you started piecing some things together.”

That doesn’t really explain anything, so Axel decides to simply dare dropping the bomb. “I’m dating Fikret Yıldız. Dortmund’s number 11.”

For a short moment, Fabian simply gapes at him before closes his mouth with a surprised “huh”.

“Yeah, I have two dads,” he then reveals with a quiet sigh, “it’s pretty much common knowledge at Säbener, considering most of them have known the two of them for quite a while. The higher-ups still like to conveniently forget about their relationship though, even if they always reassure me how glad they are to have me here. It’s kind of a mess, what with me being a product of that relationship, but hey, I guess that’s just the way it is. As long as I play great football …” He trails off.

“Oh,” Axel says, unable to think of anything more constructive to say. “That bad?”

Fabian offers him a crooked grin. “They certainly wouldn’t go as far as to kick you out of the team if they found out, though I wouldn’t go peddling it around if I were you.”

Axel hums, and they both come to a halt in front of the younger’s red Audi. (“Very subtle,” Axel remarked drily the first time he saw it. Fabian had only grinned. “Subtlety is not my style.”) The seats are cold and the windshield is starting to freeze over.

The drive back to Axel’s apartment goes by quietly, but when he’s ready to get out, Fabian holds him back by his arm.

“Axel? Thanks for telling me. It means a great deal that you trusted me with it.”

The smile they exchange is fragile, but in retrospect, Axel would claim that that was the moment when they actually did become best friends.

It’s a few weeks later when things come crashing down.

One day after training, someone yells Axel’s name when he exits the building, making him whip his head around so fast that it almost makes him feel a bit dizzy.

He’s already running towards Fikret before his mind can even fully comprehend that he’s actually here. Only when he has his arms around him does he realize how much he’s missed his smell, his skin underneath his fingers, his lips on his shoulder. He’s spinning him around like they’re in a romantic comedy, and he’s honestly surprised when the only comment they get is “but don’t you dare going around trading club secrets, Rose!”

When he tosses a short glance over Fikret’s shoulder, he can see Fabian grin at him as he walks up to his car, flashing him a quick thumbs up, but other than that, no one seems to give them more than a passing glance.

Axel doesn’t think about it when he pulls him behind the next corner to kiss him, fiercely, on the lips, claiming his mouth with a hunger he didn’t know he was capable of.

It comes to bite him two days later, when Fikret already left for Dortmund again.

It was incredible, being able to spend time with him again; he feels lighter now, as if he’s able to see things more clearly. Fikret and Fabian got along well too – almost too well, Axel decided when the two of them and their sharp wits started ganging up on him.

Everything would be perfect, if.

Perfect, if he wasn’t ordered to the president’s office two days later with a sinking feeling in his stomach that only got worse the closer as soon as he closed the door behind him

They don’t outright say it, of course; don’t say that they ‘don’t like this kind of thing here’, but he is able to read between the lines.

“We don’t have any issues with it, but we’d prefer if you kept it on the down-low. The board isn’t too fond of this kind of relationship. Maybe you could look around for a friend to take out a few times, so that the media wouldn’t get any _ideas_.” And please, no more intimate hugs on training grounds where there’s almost always a camera pointed at you, and thank you.

With every word, the bile raises further in Axel’s throat.

It turns out the assistant coach spotted the two of them kissing, and well. He blames himself, of course, and for a second he’s glad when they don’t kick him out before he remembers that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of, not in this day and age, and a quiet, desperate rage starts to take over.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s Fabian who pokes his head in. “There you are! Toni is looking for you, you’re supposed to be at a meeting in ten minutes. Of course I can tell him that he should wait, if you need some more time here.” He turns to the bosses.

“No, we are finished here,” the president says, shooting Axel a last icey look.

The goalkeeper takes a shaky breath as soon as the door closes behind him and Fabian, rubbing a trembling hand over his face before turning to his friend. “Right, meeting.”

Fabi gently shakes his head. “No meeting. I heard through the grapevine what happened. Toni’s covering for you.”

Axel lets out a watery laugh, feeling his eyes wettening.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“No worries. Nothing you wouldn’t do for a friend. And now,” he gently tugs at his sleeve, directing him towards the garage, “you’re coming with me. Are they making you get a girlfriend?”

“Not exactly.” Axel hates how bitter he sounds.

Fabi groans. “God, I can’t believe they’re pulling this stunt again. They can’t get away with it, not this time.”

Axel doesn’t even bother to ask, just follows him to his car.

The drive out of the city is quiet and leads them through suburbs until they disperse into small towns and villages. Neither of them bother to put on the radio, so the only sound is the low hum of the engine.

About forty minutes later, they pull up in front of a medium-sized mansion looking down on a lake.

Fabian’s smile is crooked. “Welcome to my home. You’re invited to dinner.” He takes a deep breath, “My parents want to talk to you. I hope you’re not angry that I told them about you. But I really believe they can help you with this.”

Axel hesitates. “Not angry,” he reassures him, “but.”

“If it helps, Papa makes a mean lasagna.”

The short, barking laugh Axel lets out is somewhat incredulous, but he follows his friend out of the car. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as Fabian fiddles with his keys, taking notice of the two expensive cars parked next to Fabi’s red Audi.

“Dad, Papa? I’m home!” the younger one yells as they soon they’ve entered.

A pleasant smell of freshly cooked food greets them, so it’s not surprising when someone yells “kitchen!”.

The man standing by the stove is tall, certainly taller than his son though maybe about the same height as Axel, his back facing the two boys as they enter, an apron tied around his waist.

“Fabi, can you please take the lasagna out of the oven?” he asks without turning around. There’s something familiar about his voice (decidedly not Bavarian, Axel notices. NRW, maybe, though it’s difficult to tell), but Axel can’t put a finger on it.

Fabian rolls his eyes but compiles. His father wipes his hands on his apron – a wedding band on his right hand, a few bracelets around the wrist of the left one – before turning around.

He’s probably around fifty, his hair a mix of grey and what probably was dark blond a few years ago, with a strong chin, full cheeks and intense blue eyes with crow’s feet by the corners. Somehow, his face manages to make even more alarm bells ring in Axel’s mind than his voice did, but still, he doesn’t manage to place it.

“Axel Rose. I heard many good things about you,” the man smiles, offering him his hand. His grip is firm.

Axel casts a glance at Fabian, but his teammate only raises his hands in a ‘it wasn’t me’ motion.

His father laughs. “Mostly from Toni and Christian, to be honest. You know how us goalkeepers are, we are an awful gossipy lot, especially when it comes to fresh new talent.”

He turns back around, stirring in his pot once more before turning the stove off. “Also, I suspect you are to Christian what he once was to me, so I think he’s trying to convince me of his superior mentoring skills, or something.”

That finally makes the shoe drop. Axel can feel his jaw drop. He whirls around to face Fabian in order to gape at him.

“Your dad is Manuel Neuer?! And you never thought to mention this to me??”

Fabi only grins, that asshole.

“It’s Manuel Müller, actually, ever since I got married again,” the older goalkeeper says, pushing a few plates and some cutlery into Fabian’s waiting arms. “Would you care to carry the lasagna into the living room?” he asks Axel.

Axel only nods numbly.

When it’s another Bayern legend who descends the stairs to join them for dinner, swiftly pecking Manuel – Herr Müller? – on the lips in greeting, only moments later, he doesn’t even find it in himself to be surprised anymore.

“I’m Thomas, Fabian’s dad. How are you doing? Wait, stupid question,” the former forward interrupts himself, “I’m sure you don’t feel all too peachy after getting the talk from the management level, do you.”

Axel lowers his head, staring at the floor. Thomas gives his back a gentle pat. “No worries kid, we’ve got you. We’ve done this whole charade before, haven’t we, Manu,” he turns to offer his husband an incredibly fond look; Manuel returns it with a smile, “so we’d like to offer you our support. It’s time things change around here.”

As promised, the lasagna is delicious.

The conversation stays light during dinner, both Thomas and Fabian rolling their eyes when Manuel and Axel fall into goalkeeper talk; but it’s not like Axel can help himself.

Admittedly, he’s still a bit starstruck, being in the presence of someone he admires, someone he has looked up to ever since he was a little kid; the man, the myth, the legend. Still can’t believe this man is his best friend’s father. But nevertheless, he’s excited to share his experiences with him.

Once the table is cleared, they hatch a masterplan. Axel is perplexed by how much Fabian’s parents know, even if he guesses he shouldn’t be. They know an astonishing lot about what especially to pay attention to; how to go under the radar if necessary; who to talk to about it and get support from at Bayern; which media outlet to go to if they wanted to go public.

They advise him to ask to Auba and Marco about it as well, especially when it comes to Fikret, “even if the situation is of course a bit of a different one, what with them being youth team coaches and you two being active senior players at two different clubs.”

“We got together in 2016,” Thomas says with a dry smile. “And Krümel over there joined our life in early 2018.”

Fabian groans at the nickname, hiding his face in his hands.

“Why did you never make it public?” Axel is genuinely curious.

Manuel shrugs, fiddling with his cloth napkin. “The time wasn’t right. I don’t think anyone was ready, us included.”

Thomas reaches over the table, stroking over the back of his husband’s hand. Manuel’s fingers unclench.

“In the end, we mostly did it to protect Fabian. You saw the shitstorm in the media after Marco and Auba came out. What do you think would have happened if that happened with us still playing, several years earlier and with a baby involved?”

“We still plan to,” Manuel adds, “We don’t know when yet, we don’t want it to have an effect on Fabian’s career. He did all of this by himself and we’re so proud of him.”

Fabian manages half of a smile, blushing a bit, not looking at any of them.

“In the end, we’ll just have to see and chose the path that’s best for us and our son. And so do you.”

Axel sighs, all of this failing to make him feel much more confident, no matter how hard they all tried. In all honesty, his head is starting to ache, and right now, he wants nothing more than to hold Fikret in his arms.

“Kid?” Manuel’s voice is soft but determined and makes him look up again. “You’ll be alright.”

He looks over at Thomas who returns his small smile with a fond grin, and when they lean in to exchange a quick kiss, making Fabian groan once more, Axel suddenly knows that somehow, they will be.

All of them.

 

**Author's Note:**

>   * First of all, blame Nani for Axel's cheesy name; credit for Fikret's last name goes to [blindbatalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex)
>   * Axel has a knack for knitting, see [here](https://manaholic-mongolian.tumblr.com/post/165760908211/my-axelfikret-gillian-headcannons-because) – also, check that post out for several other awesome headcanons on him and Fikret!
>   * Fikret calling Bayern 'knuckleheads' is inspired by a drabble the amazing [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/pseuds/eafay70) wrote for me!
>   * Fabian is about 1-2 cm taller than Thomas, which annoys the latter to no end
>   * His parents' nickname for him, Krümel, means crumb
>   * For the sake of this story, both Toni Tapalović (Bayern's gk coach as well as a close friend of Manuel's) and Christian Früchtl are still at Bayern in 2037 (yes, I know it's not that likely)
>   * ~~You can ask me about Fabi's origin story, just to be prepared to maybe not like what I tell you~~
>   * Title from .... a OneRepublic song. I don't remember which one
>   * I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way
> 

> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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